


Golden Memories

by Gritty_Water



Series: Mae and Meli Collective [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, First Age, Noldor - Freeform, Silmarillion - Freeform, The Flight of the Noldor, Tirion, Valinor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 22:49:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19119286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gritty_Water/pseuds/Gritty_Water
Summary: Golden ribbons remind Lanyalindie of a better time.





	Golden Memories

The man asks for golden ribbons, and Lanyalindie doesn’t refuse. Sure, it takes her a moment to summon an answer to his request, but she doesn’t say no.

_This is ridiculous, after all this time?_ her mind questions as she sorts through a drawer for the ribbons. She had done hundreds, maybe even thousands of gold ribbons since those days, and it still had such an effect on her.

“Lovely weather today,” the man comments as Lanyalindie dips her brush in scented water and runs it through the tips of his hair. It is dark and soft, and Lanyie’s fingertips tingle in remembrance.

“Oh yes, the weekend’s rain has made this week so cool,” she replies politely. “I love seeing the sunlight on all the little water droplets in the trees.” And yet more stunning, more lovely had been the light of the trees on them, changing them into jewels of every color as it mingled. Her mind floats back to better days, memories of running through freshly wet grass, her hand clasped in another.

Satisfied with the man’s smoothly brushed hair, Lanyie sets down the brush and begins parting it to begin the braids. She lets it run through her fingers once first. It is so jarringly similar to _his_ hair; she still remembers distinctly its weight and thickness, the shine as it flows through her hands. How long had it been since first he came for her to do his hair, for their cousins’ wedding? He’d asked for the gold ribbons too. He always wore the gold ribbons. The only time she had seen him without them was when he’d taken them out after the wedding. They’d braided each other’s hair together in the garden, softly lit by the silver beams of Telperion. Lanyië continues to hear the distant song that played as they say together, sang together.

Lanyië finds herself humming the song as she winds the ribbon through her customer’s hair. It is so easy to pretend she’s doing _his_ hair, and the song makes it even easier. In her mind she can hear his soft tenor voice as they had sung together, voices mingling and crossing as the strands of their hair did as they intertwined them. The song that had bound them together, interlaced a part of them that despite the distance could never be removed.

Her fingers continue to braid, although her mind is now deep in the past. _Why did you have to follow them?_ she silently questions him. He had been reluctant. She knows he was unsure of what his family would do, unsure of the scale of the rebellion—was it truly a rebellion?—and, she hopes, unsure about them.

Perhaps she should have gone with them. Melimië did, after all. But at what cost? Lanyië remembers the month before they left, how her cousin had cried in her arms at night, terrified of the outside world, and yet unwilling to leave her husband. She had left to stay with his camp the morning after, and Lanyië only saw her once afterwards, just a brief goodbye. _Him_ she had only caught a glimpse of, a quick flash of his hair ribbons in the blue lights of their lamps, a brief second of eye contact…

Lanyië ties off the last ribbon, surveying her work with contentment. The vision is quickly melting into mist. This is not her lover, just another customer asking for a common hairstyle. The memories were just brief shadows of a time long gone, a time that would most likely never return.

“Have a good day,” she finds herself calling to her customer as he leaves after thanking her. Looking outside, she sees a couple of _níssi_ approaching her shop, and begins tidying up again.

And yet she cannot help but reach deep into the drawer again, and for a brief moment run the old, crinkled ribbons through her fingers once more before returning to work.


End file.
